THE RECRUIT
By; Gerald A. Polley
Chapter 13
It was just a few days before he would get his Ws, when a new
officer appeared at the house, a very attractive woman. She spoke
to Imal's wife, and she pointed to him. She came over.
"I understand we're going to be in the same unit," she remarked.
"I'm Loretta Young. Yes, I'm named after the actress, and I do look
like her."
"You most certainly do!" Imal answered.
"One of the old men in the city where I lived ran the little theater.
He had an old projector and ancient movies, several of them with that
lady in them. Whenever I could get a quarter and he was showing
one of her movies I'd go. I always enjoyed them."
He noticed another officer hanging back, another very attractive
woman. "Oh!" the Warlock continued, "This is Warlock Hemlock.
She's with Investigative Services. She heard I was coming over
here and asked if she could come along. She wants to interview
you."
Imal was puzzled. "I'm under no investigation," he remarked.
"Oh!" the officer answered, "When we read the testimony that the young
lady you rescued gave, we just had to send someone to get official
records. You know how we feel about incidences like that!"
Imal was taken back. "That testimony was sealed!" he
snapped. "No one had any right to read it and you should not be
speaking of it here."
The woman smiled.
"Investigative services has the right to read sealed evidence, when it
may pertain to phenomena. I'm sure you understand. I must say
what I've found out so far is impressive! What you've been doing
with the doctor in the afternoon people must be made aware of!"
"What?" Imal snapped. "The doctor and I had an agreement, she
gave her word on her Ancestors' graves that she would tell no one
anything about that!"
"I ordered her to violate that agreement," the officer piped. "Such things as that cannot go unrecorded!"
Imal was enraged. "You f****n' religious fanatic!" he screamed,
"How dare you? You have destroyed the relationship between me and
one of my closest friends! That was a private matter, outside of
my military duties. You had no business ordering anyone to
violate my trust! Get out of here, you bitch, now! Don't ever get
in my face again or I will not be as polite as I'm being now! GO!"
The young officer was trembling. "Investigative Services," she
managed, "has the right to inquire into such phenomena."
Imal got right in her face. "You'd better read regulations, slut!" he
snapped. "You better know your own people's policies!
You've already violated my trust twice, already broken promises I
made! Get out of my face and stay out of my face! None of
your people are ever to come near me again! If my trust is ever
violated again I will resign! I will not serve with people like
you!"
Imal's wife came over. "Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa!"
she cried, "There's other officers present. This behavior is totally
unacceptable. Calm down! The officer may have gone outside of
regulations, but she felt she was performing her duties."
"If she doesn't get out of my face," Imal snapped, "I'll tell her what
she can do with her duties! If she makes any report on anything
claiming that I have any kind of special powers, I'm done with the lot
of you!"
His wife let out a "Wooo!" Imal went to the phone and called Rumple's house. The nurse answered.
"Can I speak to Crystal?" Imal asked.
"Certainly!" the nurse answered.
In a moment Crystal answered. Imal explained to her that there
was an officer from Investigative Services on the base and she'd
probably show up at her house. He asked Crystal not to speak with
her. She had already violated his privacy, she would undoubtedly
violate hers.
"Want me to break her neck?" Crystal asked.
"No!" Imal answered, "Just don't cooperate with her, don't give her anything."
"You betcha!" Crystal answered.
That evening just after they finished supper the doctor came
over. Imal immediately got up, went into his room and shut the
door. A moment later his wife knocked on it, and asked if she
could come in.
"Please?" she moaned,
"Please come out and talk to her? She was so excited about how well the
tests were going. She wanted to talk about it, she wanted to tell
everybody. When the officer said she had to it just poured
out. Can't you understand?"
"No!" Imal
answered, "We had an agreement. She gave her word. I trusted her. She
betrayed me. I'm sorry. I can't deal with it."
His wife sighed. "This is terrible!" she moaned, "It's absolutely
terrible! I understand, it should've never got out of control, your
wishes should've been respected. But she's a dear friend."
"That's what hurts!" Imal answered, "That's what really hurts. She was a dear friend."
His wife went back out. A couple days later he was called to the
commander's office. When he entered he found the woman
there. The commander looked up.
"Sir," he
snapped, "this young woman in the performance of her duties made a
mistake. But she is required to hand in a report. She would
like you to approve of it."
"Never!" Imal
snapped. "And I want her god damned office to understand they are
not to bother me, or to bother my friends. They are not going to
make me a religious hero! I want my privacy maintained, or I will
leave the service! I will most certainly reimburse you, I will
reimburse The Republic for the most excellent training they have given
me, and, the medical care, but if this animal continues to harass me I
will not stay with you! Get her out of my life and keep her out
of my life!"
The commander sighed. "Look,"
he pleaded, "they're not the American CIA. They're not the
Russian KGB. They won't try to use you. But please
cooperate with them a little bit?"
"If that is all, sir," Imal snapped, "I would like to leave. Something smells in here!"
The young woman began to cry. The commander sighed.
"There's one thing," he managed, "one of the girls you were helping in
the hospital. She's beginning to relapse. The doctor asks if
you're angry with her please don't take it out on the children."
Imal sighed. "I'll come by this afternoon," he answered, but that
will be the last one. I will not try to help any more. My
privacy will be respected. If people will not respect it, I won't take
part in things that they ask me to."
The
commander nodded. Imal wanted things to simply go quietly.
Graduation was just two days away. They wanted him to take a W2,
but he said no, he wanted to lead a platoon first, before a whole
unit. He just wasn't ready to command a hundred men. He was
just getting done for the day when he was called to the office.
There was another officer there. When Imal saw the number on his
collar he was taken back! It was the highest rank he'd ever
seen! Before the instructor could speak the officer did.
"I'm James Watchtower," he snapped, "commander of Investigative
Services. One of my agents tried to interview you. She gathered
information on you for a report and you refused to sign it. You
will sign it now, and when she returns you will grant her
interviews. Now, take this and SIGN IT!"
Imal took the clipboard and whacked the man viciously in the face with
it. "There's your signature, asshole!" he snapped. The man
staggered back. "If you wish to press charges do so!" He
turned to the recruiter.
"I hereby extend my
resignation! Please send the appropriate papers to my home!
In the meantime, I'm going in town to purchase some civilian
clothes. Would you be so kind as to give me a pass?"
The officer looked to the commander who nodded. Imal stormed out
of the office and headed for the bus. In a few minutes he was in
town and going through the shops. He really didn't know what
style of clothes he was interested in. The shops in town sold
Arab dress, European, and American. He went from shop to shop. He
was looking at some American style suits when he became aware of
somebody standing beside him. He looked up to see the Guardian
that had helped him in the recent unfortunateness.
"You here to arrest me?" Imal asked.
"No, sir!" the guardian answered with a smile. "We just wanted to
locate you because somebody wanted to talk to you. Would you mind?"
Imal sighed. "No!" he managed.
"You can put that call through!" the man snapped, putting his phone up
to his face. He covered the microphone and whispered "Did you
really whack him in the face?"
Imal nodded. The
Guardian handed him the phone. A young girl's voice came
on. "Warlock Imal?" she asked.
"No," dear," Imal answered, "I'm not one yet."
"Oh, close enough!" the girl answered. "Father will be with you in a
minute." He heard someone clear his throat. "I'm
sorry!" the girl sighed. "The First Speaker will be with you in a
moment! To everybody else he's The First Speaker. To us he's father."
Imal covered the microphone. "First Speaker?" he managed.
The guardian nodded. A moment later a very familiar voice came on the phone. "Warlock Imal?" he asked.
"Yes, sir!" Imal answered.
"Well, having a bad day, aren't we son? You don't mind me calling you son, do you?"
"Sir," Imal answered, "you may call me anything you wish! I am honored!"
"Well, son," The First Speaker continued, "you can go back to the base
and continue with your training. Look, I know old Watchtower can
be a royal pain, especially when his daughter's involved. But I
need you, son! I can't lose good people. I've been
monitoring the situation out there. Watchtower knows he messed
up. Sometimes people mean well, they just don't understand when
somebody doesn't want the things they want. Good Lords! Me of
anyone understands your feelings. I don't know how many times
I've thought man, I'd just love to be an ordinary guy, putting my feet
up on Sunday afternoon and watching a football game. But some of
us don't have that luxury, son. Half the time you'll curse the things
you can do, but other times you'll bless The Lords that you have
them, that you have the abilities, that you have the powers. I
guarantee you, I will quiet the people down that are upsetting
you. But as I say, they mean well. How 'bout it son? Can
you help a tired old man out and give him some back up? And give the
doctor a bit of a break too? I can tell you, all my life I've
longed to be able to do the things you can do. Those powers have
never really been that great in me. How did you feel when that
little girl's infection disappeared, when they said she didn't have a
prayer, and you holding her hands over her for a few minutes started
that stuff in her dying? What's that feel like, son?"
Imal smiled. It's indescribable, sir! But what about the ones I can't help?"
"Then you realize you can't help them, son, that there's a reason why
they have to go on. It is simply their time. We can't fix
that, but when it isn't their time we can. Now, I got a young
lady jumpin' up and down over here because I'm late for an interview."
Imal smiled. "Yes sir!" he managed, "I'll go back to the base."
"Good!" The First Speaker answered. "Give my regards to your
wife. And thank her for the dates."
The connection started to buzz and Imal handed the phone
back. "We've got a vehicle over here," the Guardian
remarked.
"Why doesn't that surprise me?"
Imal answered with a grin. He got back to the base. The
Commander of Investigative Services was waiting.
"Walk you to your house?" he asked.
"Yes!" Imal answered. "If you'll answer a question for me."
The man nodded. "Why doesn't your daughter and you have the same name?"
"Oh!" the man answered. "Her father died when she was nine. I married
her mother about two months later. It had been her father's wish.
She was my daughter from then on. Look, I'm really sorry!
This thing shouldn't have got out of control. But it's our
job! It's our life! It's what we are! And to put it
quite frankly, you're phenomenal!"
Imal sighed.
"I understand," he managed. "But I don't want it recorded. The
only note I want in history is that I was a good soldier. I don't want
anybody to know I can do this stuff. I don't want to be a Moses,
a Muhammed, or a Jesus. I just want to be a good soldier."
The commander smiled. "Understood!" he managed. "It's gonna drive
us crazy, we're gonna be wanting to investigate every single happening,
but understood."
He got back to the house. His
wife looked up but didn't say anything. A few minutes after the
officers were gone Imal asked "He thanked you for the dates. What
was that about?"
"Oh!" his wife answered, "He
still remembers? He loves a certain kind of dates. The time
we met we had shipped our last harvest, didn't have any. I made
sure the next harvest two cases went to him, went to The White House.
That's where he was then. He sent me a note saying The Secret
Service didn't want him to eat 'em, but he relished every one, so did
his daughters! He remembers!"
"Of course he
remembers!" Imal answered, kissing her on the cheek, "Of course he
remembers! He never forgets a kindness."
His wife returned his smile. "Well! Two more days and you're going to have to start training your unit!"
"Just what have you got in mind?" Imal asked.
"Oh, nothing too much!" his wife answered, "Just blowing up 30 tanks
and 20 personnel carriers. Won't be too hard, lobbing some
mortars into a camp. Then all you'll have to do is run like
hell!"
"With that," Imal answered "I have
practice!" His wife laughed. "You really hit him with the
clip board?" she asked.
"Right across the face!" Imal answered.
"Wooo!" his wife managed. "Good thing you were in the right!"
"Yeah!" Imal answered, "Damned good thing!"